What the Nights Bring
by Spring-and-Winter
Summary: The nights leave ones out in the open and overwhelm with their guilt and fears of what has happened. Finding company in the one you least expect to fall for helps keeps these nightmares at bay...


What the Nights Bring

Characters Doug TenNapel

**Author's note**: Read "On Thin Ice" before you read this for the story to make any sense. I felt like I rushed some parts of that story and wanted to write what had occurred before Mr. Blik, Gordon, Barkmeat, and Hovis showed up.

**Summary**: Waffle is plague with the haunting, traumatic memory of what happened in the dog fighting arena and is overwhelm with the guilt of what he did; meanwhile Barkmeat deals with his own past ghosts.

_His head snapped back, his windpipes were squeezed practically shut. Waffle tried to buck the monster size brute of the cat that held him down beneath him. Waffle's fingers pried hopelessly at the digits that dug into his throat, his airway blocked enough so as not even a wheeze could be mustered. The grey tabby's eyesight began to blur, tears leaking from the corners. _

_Bootsie laughed manically, enjoying the thrill of this. Leaning forward, the chain that attached to the stake in the ground rattling, he whispered in a hiss, "I told you would regret that kick little rich brat."_

_In a desperate attempt of avoiding strangulation, Waffle lunged up and bit Bootsie's raggedy ear, pulling back with a sharp twist._

_Bootsie screeched like a banshee, all but tearing his ear out from Waffle's jaws. When he freed it, Waffle caught a glimpse of blood squirting from it, could taste the metallic, coppery taste of the blood he drew. His tongue ran over his lips, then his teeth. When Bootsie staggered away, trying with futility to hinder the bleeding, the young cat scoots back; two fingers were brought to his lips. When he pulled them back he groaned with nauseating guilt and horror. The tips of his fingers were painted red with Bootsie's blood. _

_Bootsie shot a dagger like glower at Waffle. "Enough of this crap!" He leaped upon the poor kid._

_Waffle cried out and tried crawling away, narrowly missing Bootsie landing on him. Bootsie, though, was persistent. The larger beast grabbed the chain that was attached to Waffle's collar and yanked the unfortunate cat back. Dragging the grey feline on his back, Bootsie issued a string of threats, threats that would come true._

_Unless Waffle did something about it that is…_

_Waffle rolled onto his front and tried forcing himself the other way, eyes trained on the foaming feline. Digging his back feet into the dirt of the floor, Waffle tried pulling his collar off, but Retch must've strapped it on tighter, and so was incapable of doing so. _

Kill or be killed…

_Waffle's eyebrows furrowed as he recalled what Retch had told him before this fight started. Come to think of it, didn't Barkmeat say something similar about this?_

Some of the other opponents were older than I was and had the order ingrained into them…

_That's right. Waffle had tried talking Bootsie out of killing him; Bootsie refused. Now, after being attacked and still in the midst of danger, as Waffle looked over that frustrated, murderous looking feline, Waffle realized that Bootsie had made his choice. Bootsie meant to kill him despite Retch's lies._

Kill or be killed…_Retch…_

I didn't want to die…_Barkmeat…_

_Waffle frowned, stricken with the torment that his conscious would most likely be put through if he succeeded in what he needed to do-what he had to do._

I don't want to die, _Waffle thought. With that thought, the feline squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath, and relinquished his resistance. He sprung forward, but instead of allowing Bootsie the pleasure of taking his life, Waffle jumped onto the surprised cat, sending Bootsie to his back this time. _

_When Waffle opened his eyes seconds later, seconds that seemed to draw out, the kid found he was sitting on Bootsie's abdomen, leaning slowly back. At first he wasn't sure what had happened, Bootsie was still-too still. Then, Waffle's eyes widen to dinner plates, and more, when he saw the torn tendons, the long, jagged gash, in his neighbor's cat's neck. Bootsie's eyes remained open._

_Though these eyes saw nothing; nor would they ever again in this world._

_Somewhere off in the far away distance, Retch's cruel, inane laughter could be heard._

_This was drowned out by Waffle's screams of utter horror and despair._

Waffle awoke with a jolt, sitting upright in bed. He didn't dare scream less he initiated the wrath of Mr. Blik, and given how his body still ache from the last confrontation, the youngest Cramdilly brother forced himself to swallow that bubbling scream.

Waffle, settling his breathing and heart beats, stared off into the dark of his room. The moon shone in bright and egg shell white, leaving a pool of light on his rug floor and imprinting his walls with twisting shadows of the street lights from the street corners and the occasional tree branch. Not a sound could be heard except for the whistling wind of February; a soothing sound to be heard if it were any other night; and for someone else.

Waffle hadn't been able to have a soothing night for several months, since September in fact; when _it_ happened.

The young cat ran his hands over his head, pulling his ears back some as he did. His fur was sticking to him with perspiration, caused from that nightmarish memory. The same one has plagued his nights since…no, he would not think about it. The nightmare had ran its course, why poke the tiger?

The sheets and quilts suddenly felt too hot. Kicking them back, Waffle got to his feet and walked over to his bed room door. Opening it as quietly as he could, he slunk out into the hallway. Easily finding his way down this hallway, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

Maybe a nice, cold bottle of root beer will calm his shot dead nerves; again.

…

_The front double doors of the hospital shot opened, a lanky, ginger haired dog catcher rushing a gurney through. Upon the mobile bed was the paling body of a feline just barely alive. A terrible bite was taken into the crook of where the neck met with the shoulder, of which was bleeding easily through the gauges and bandages. _

_The cat had already slipped away from life once and was on the edge of doing so once more. It looked like the shock delivered to his chest wouldn't revive him a second time either; nor will an adrenaline shot…_

_Following after in a run were the oddest sight. A butler, who was more or less speed walking, a short and black cat, a pudgy white with an orange patch cat, and a small, but rather well built canine were chasing after the dog catcher. A bombardment of questions and desperate begging were walking over each other from their moths, all at the same time. _

_The dog catcher met halfway down the hall with a certified vet, who immediately took the gurney and then in turn started off for a room on the far right, the emergency clinic. The others, and particularly the dog, attempted to follow. The dog catcher stopped them._

"_I'm sorry," he said, his voice husky but well meaning, "but no one is allowed in there for fear of contaminating open wounds. You will have to wait in the waiting room." He walked briskly away._

_So the four waited; to Barkmeat, it was the longest hour he ever had to wait through._

_Finally though, a vet, the one that had taken over, returned and gave the verdict._

_Waffle would live, but would be in intensive care for two months; an estimated, but not dead. _

_The two cats, Mr. Blik and Gordon, went in first. Barkmeat stood waiting outside, listening and waiting his turn. He wanted to visit Waffle in private. Through the door, he could hear Gordon's breaking voice, genuine cooing. Mr. Blik could be heard to, though he had more or less control over his relief and was apologizing over and over in his typical, stubborn, angry way. Hovis was there too, saying what the vet had to say and that things will be ready when Waffle came home._

_After the three left, Gordon towing Blik away, who glowered at the dog, Barkmeat muttered impatiently that he would walk home. So the three departed and even inside Barkmeat, as well as anybody nearby most likely, could hear that thundering engine fade away. _

_When Barkmeat entered the room, quietly shutting the door, Waffle perked up almost instantly. He grinned widely like everything was normal, okay. _

_It wasn't though. Waffle may be smiling like his usual youthful way, but his body condition said another story. The kid's fur was matted down from having to be hosed down, giving him an emaciated look (when did he eat last? Barkmeat wondered) and had a color of worn out wash cloths. With his fur wet, the canine could easily see the bruises of Mr. Blik's doing, an ugly pattern of splotches that grated Barkmeat's nerves right down to the bone. His black eye wasn't as swollen, but the dark ring was clearly evident, another evidence of Mr. Blik's irrational rage. What got Barkmeat the most though was the bandaging job done on his bite wound. Barkmeat may not be medically educated, but even he knew there would always be a horrid scar, a constant reminder, of today's events. All because Barkmeat had pulled him back in; all because Waffle didn't understand that not everybody was good at heart, all because he still wanted to be with Barkmeat; all because Barkmeat and Waffle tried to go against nature._

"_Are you all right Barkmeat?" Waffle asked, smiling still bright as always._

_A pang of guilt hit the canine's gut. Seriously, he's the one in the bed and he's asking _Barkmeat_ if _he's _okay? "I'm dandy…given the fact I landed you in the hospital."_

_Waffle's smile diminished in a matter of moments. "This wasn't your fault."_

_Barkmeat growled and punched a dent into the wall across from where Waffle laid. The cat jumped and crossed his arms, nervous of the dog's anger. _

_Barkmeat eyed Waffle. He sighed heavily, walked over, hopped onto the bed in front of Waffle. He noted the slimmest tremors of the cat's hands and took them, firm but none too tight. When next he spoke, he sounded ten years older._

"_Waffle…I almost got you killed today."_

_Waffle found that he couldn't wet his tongue he was so nervous of where this was heading. "I…it couldn't be helped. Retch was a jerk."_

_Barkmeat snorted, not looking the feline in the eyes. "He was more borderline sociopathic…and racist."_

_Waffle cocked his head, confused._

_Barkmeat looked up finally. "He was crazy and he hates cats more than I did," he explained._

"_Oh…" Waffle smiled again. "Hey, you said you 'did' hate cats. That's past tense. So..."_

_Barkmeat narrowed his eyes, but there was a playful smile. "Don't get any funny ideas. I still find cats annoying and tasty." The smirk grew into something along the lines of sly. "I just find _one_ particular cat to be exceptionally savoring."_

"_Hey now, you said you would try not-oh!" Waffle caught on and laughed, albeit timid. He leaned back against his bed when Barkmeat leaned closer, the smile soft._

_Barkmeat stopped just inches from the connection. He sighed again and leaned away, Waffle staring up in confusion again. "Waffle…"_

"_What?"_

"_This…" the vein in the dog's head pulsed violently, "this can't happen anymore."_

_Waffle may not be bright all the time, but he knew what Barkmeat meant by this. Though instead of feeling saddened, the feline found he was feeling irritated. "Why?"_

"_BECAUSE you nearly KICKED THE BUCKET; I can't protect you from others like Retch-and there are others-and I can't protect you from me."_

"_You wouldn't-"_

"_I almost did when we were in the pound."_

"_You didn't though and it turned-"_

"_Plus…I feel…overwhelm with your scent. Your scent is mouthwatering and…" Barkmeat swallowed. "I really don't want to end up harming the only one I actually fell for."_

_Waffle was silent._

"_Waffle…this shouldn't have happened-I mean…I…love you and all, but…let's face it. It can't work without-"_

_Waffle's lips collided with Barkmeat's, shutting him up. The dog's eyes were wide enough to pop. He didn't shove the cat away, his hands in fact kept the feline even closer. When Waffle broke the contact, he only moved back several inches, barely speaking above a whisper._

"_Would you just shut up?"_

_Barkmeat's eyes lessened in size, but the shock at these fresh words remained. "Waffle-"_

_Waffle smiled, bitterly. "I really wish you would stop building these walls up and just go for it for once. I wish you would stop this false talk of hate between our kinds. We're not like the others; otherwise you would've eaten me once we got away from the pound."_

"_Your brothers-"_

"_Since when have you cared about that? Would you just admit it: you want to be with me and the others can go to the Deep South?"_

_Barkmeat didn't answer for a long time, which worried Waffle. Plus, the dog's face was void of any expression._

"_Barkmeat, are-"_

_The dog trapped the cat underneath him. It was Waffle's turn to be taken off guard, his mouth dropped open. Of course, this only invited Barkmeat to go in for a kiss. He kept the cat's wrist pressed to the bed, to which he didn't object. _

_When Barkmeat pulled back, Waffle just stared; wet fur warm._

_Barkmeat smirked, something dark about it. "If this is going to happen…you should know something." He leaned and whispered into the striped ear, "You're mine for the taking; no take backs." He nibbled on the tip of this ear and was rewarded a gentle sigh of relent._

Barkmeat blinked, zoning back from remembering this. The two months that followed after were long; guilt filled ones, something of which nearly drove him crazy. It didn't help that Waffle suffers from constant nightmares of_ that_ day. If the dog could get inside the cat's head and eased the pain that way, he would.

Having asked Kimberly to unlock the backdoor, who returned to bed grumbling sleepily to stay out of trouble, the canine climbed over the wall and walked down the chilled cement of the sidewalk on his way to a certain mansion. He stared up at it, its size increased in the dark, gloom of the cloudless night. Not a light shone within on the upper floors and a mast majority was also left in a characterless darkness; all, except for one, its ray towards the back, just around the corners.

It didn't halt Barkmeat in his stead. He knew who was up and wasn't in the least bit surprised.

Walking around, where the backdoor of the kitchen was, Barkmeat knocked quietly on the wood. The lock unlatched and the door opened evenly, Waffle standing there with a bottle of root beer in his free hand. The feline's tired face brightens up though when he saw who it was. Without a word, he opened the door the rest of the way, the dog entering.

Waffle closed the door, pulling the lock back into place. Barkmeat was already seated at the table, having jumped up onto the chair once he pushed it back. The cat joined, sitting in the chair across from the dog and begin sipping on the drink before asking what was up.

Barkmeat shrugged lazily. "I've been…thinking."

Waffle set the root beer on the table. "What were you thinking about?"

Even in the dark of the kitchen, Waffle saw the frown. "I was thinking about what happened in the hospital."

The cat winced. Right…when he tried to… "Are you still-"

"No, I don't have second thoughts." After a brief paused, Barkmeat added, "I didn't want to, but…it scared the crap out of me…"

"Yeah….I was too."

A quizzical eyebrow rose. "You were unconscious or…" he didn't want to finish that sentence.

Waffle traced his fingers around the table. "I…may not have been…all there, but…I could still feel it. It was like I was…choking and floating at the same time." He looked up to meet worried drawn eyes. "Does that make sense? Is that what it always feels like…before you-"

Barkmeat slapped a hand across Waffle's mouth, startling the feline. The dog was scowling. "I don't want you to say it." He brought his hand away; face relaxing, but still worried. "As for that… I don't think that's how it feels. It's supposed to be…painless; not what…you went through."

"Oh…okay." Waffle lay back in his seat. He looked at the root beer and for once in his four years of life he didn't feel up to it. He yawned, tonight's events exhausting. His eyes begin to droop, an ear twitching every now and then.

"Hey Waffle," Barkmeat's voice sounded far away, "I learned a new trick while you were in the hospital. You want to see?" The chair the dog had been sitting in scooted back.

Waffle paid no attention to this, head resting in one of his hands, eyes drifting shut. "Sure," he mumbled only loud enough for the canine to hear. He vaguely registered Barkmeat walking up to his side.

Waffle's eyes shot open when he felt hands slipped under him, one of them wrapping around his back, and was lifted with ease off the chair into Barkmeat's arms. He looked at the amused dog, seeing that Barkmeat was standing all the way up on his back feet.

Barkmeat nearly busted out laughing when he saw that look of surprised on Waffle's face. "I wanted to do something like this. It took a lot of practice and falling flat onto my face so I don't want to hear any complaints; understand?"

Without waiting for a reply, Barkmeat carried Waffle out of the kitchen and, once the cat got over his initial shock and said where to, headed to Waffle's room. When he got there, the canine slipped the feline under the blankets, Waffle inviting him in by lifting the covers up, to which Barkmeat granted. He opened his arms once they got under the covers. Waffle slipped into them, resting his head below Barkmeat's lower jaw and the dog smiled his rare, gentle smile; took his favorite stripe ear and stroked it with even, soft caresses. Waffle smiled a small smile. He closed his eyes and fell asleep listening to Barkmeat's drumming heartbeats.

It was going to take some effort, but tonight the nightmares stayed away.


End file.
